Physician, Heal Thyself
by SaintJacTheGingerNinja
Summary: Jac and Jonny are ordered to India to perform major heart surgery on an important patient, but they find themselves entangle in a dangerous web of deceit, corruption and crime with no one to turn to. The police are crooked, the phone-lines are tapped, and Hanssen can't be reached. They soon discover what lies at the centre, but can they overcome it to return home alive?
1. An Indian Suprise

**Thanks for coming to read my fanfiction. First, I must tell you that this fic has SPOILERS for months in advance, so I warn you now!**

**I know I should be writing my other fic, but after learning of the new foreign episode that concerns Jac, this idea wouldn't leave my head.**

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Never has a country been such an assault to the senses.

Vivacious stores have spilled over into the streets, along with the teenage boys and young men who stand among their products on top on the tables, hovering high above the dense crowd and hawking their wares at the top of their lungs. The street you walk on is paved, though narrow, and it is clear to you that it was never meant for cars. It's still complete pandemonium, however. The crowd surges, shoulder-to-shoulder, towards the stalls, a great tempest fighting for dominance over the weary sea, and you are carried along with them. The horns of the many scooters slice the air with an eruption of noise and you long for the sight of your motorcycle again. Children, who barely have enough clothes to fit, scurry along side the dark corridors, hands raised for a precious coin.

The world was filled with a calculated palette of colours you couldn't even identify, each one issuing vibrancy that one can not acquire in England.

At the end of the block, the food vendors rule. They stand behind old, dirty wooden carts and try to barter with you, prior to them realising that you were really not in the mood. Jonny, even so, is naively intrigued of the substance they call food, and, before you can stop him, he has bought at least a dozen. You roll your eyes exasperatedly at his idiocy, and he grins. Your senses begin to close down, aiming to protect your U.K, middle-class sensibilities.

A motorbike rushes between you, and you are momentarily mesmerised by the feeling of freedom. But then, like always, the veracity of the situation ensues and you remember why you came. Well, why Jonny thinks you came.

* * *

The plain, repetitive outside of Heysham Hospital emanates loss. Ambulances relay information about the latest casualty to the dispatchers, their sirens slicing through the thick air, as a crowd of surgeons gather on the pavement, mobilized and ready for the next RTA. The silver windows allow no onlooker to look fleetingly inside, the patients confidentiality a sealed agreement. Slowly resting on an exterior bench, two paramedics draw the nicotine from a cigarette, an act bordering the benchmark of hypocritical irony. The dark, decrepit sign stating the name of the building offers no comfort to those passing by. Carting in the subsequent patients, the porters veer the wheelchairs through the automatic doors which close with an unwelcoming finality.

You inhale what you hope is clean air and, accompanied by Jonny, stride inside. The consultant who will be assisting greets you and you are given a tour of the place. It is almost paradoxical to Holby.

Eventually, you are led onto the ward that you would be spending most of your time, and are shown the patient you would be treating. On the bed of the single cubical, beneath the whitened ceiling of the hospital, lay a statuesque brunette. She was late forties, and still beautiful. June Lill acknowledges you with a tilt of her head, but then studies you more carefully when something flickers in the back of her mind.

"क्या मैं आप जानते हैं?" She says pointedly.

You turn towards the translator, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"She said "Do I know you?" He remarks casually, certaintly impressed by the rather short clothes you are wearing at the moment.

"Jac Naylor, Cardiothoracic Consultant. I will be preforming your op," you reply, showing no empathy concerning the woman.

"तुम बहुत परिचित देखो," June answers, speaking even becoming an effort.

"You look very familiar," the translator utters, clearly enthused. Jonny notices the looks you are recieving from the unwelcome but nessersary guest and his jawline tightens.

"I don't think so."

Your nurse holds up the patient notes, neatly converted into English, and hands them over. You flick through, taking in what needed to be learnt. Finishing, you fish the scans from the file and glance at them briefly, before replacing them back into the folder. Satisfied, you turn to leave, without a word to June, and, motioning Jonny to follow, walk a few paces away.

"रुको!" The patient yells frantically, placing her hand in the air to indicate stopping. "क्या आप एक पता Paula Burrows?"

You don't need the language to be deciphered this time, for you know exactly what she means.

You have been caught.

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**If you have got this far, thanks for reading! Please review, I would love you to tell me what you think.**


	2. Henrik's Orders

**Thanks for the reviews everyone! Here is chapter two :)**

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**Two Weeks Earlier**

"This is Mrs Lill, she has arrhythmogenic right ventricular dysplasia."

You pretend to mock casual interest, for the context bores you, and the uninterested expression that crosses Hanssen's face doesn't facilitate the situation either. The woman projected on the white board is soon switched to various different graphs depicting fatality rates. Jonny raises an eyebrow at you, and you respond by shrugging your shoulders.

"She was an old patient of an old colleague of ours, and, regrettably, we had to delay her operation due to… complications," Hanssen mutters almost bitterly. "She contacted me, asking for her consultant."

He throws a pile of letters at you, and, slowly, you reach to read them. Intrigued, the fleeting look you gave reveals the writing to be in a language not known to you, though oddly familiar. Not wanting to distract Henrik from finishing the meeting, you decide to ignore the fact that they have not been translated.

"And, as we know, Mr Byrne is sadly no longer with us…"

Finally, at the mention of _his_ name, your attention peaks. Unashamedly, you lean forward in the chair, no need to forge curiosity now. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Jonny frown, concerned.

"So you had to settle for the best," you say, smirking.

"Hmm, and then I chose you Ms Naylor," Hanssen responds. You glare daggers at him, before you change to Jonny who is stifling a snigger. "And because of her condition, Mrs Lill can not fly to England to acquire treatment. Therefore, the trust is sending you to India in two weeks time."

You intake a shallow breath at the declaration of your destination – this action doesn't go unobserved by your colleagues. Surely, you reason, Hanssen knows of your history with that particular part of the world? Hospital gossip spread like a wildfire - it was always unadvisable to be on the receiving end. Or, perhaps Michael has respected your wishes. You are now oddly curious and willing to travel, though the flicker of hurt that transforms you eyes says otherwise.

"India?" You gasp, before you can prevent yourself. Hanssen stares at you impassively, and you almost fidget under the surgeon's steely look.

"Yes India. Is there a problem Ms Naylor?"

Jonny's eyes are trained on your face.

"Not at all," you quickly reply, throwing the nurse a "leave it unless you want to get eaten alive," glare. At least Hanssen seems satisfied, while Jonny surveys you with unease.

"Any questions? No? Marvelous." Henrik pushes himself from the comfort of his chair, leaving his colleagues temporarily stunned.

"I have a question. What exactly am I doing here?" Jonny asks before he can be dismissed.

"Ms Naylor needs a scrub nurse…"

"You expect Jac and I to just drop everything and go, do you?" Jonny finally masters the courage to confront his towering superior. You are wary for Hanssen's reaction, you care to hide it, but you surely are apprehensive for Jonny. However, he stays expressionless as always – analyzing you from the safety of his glasses.

"Yes. Ms Naylor has no previous commitments, no family to speak off, so it is no problem for her. And you Nurse Maconie?"

Jonny shoots you a look, before returning to answer his superior's question. His relaxed exterior has broken, and now formed a man who was seething underneath. This could be due to the intimidation or the thought of Jac's lack of a home life being revealed.

"I suppose I have no plans but…" Jonny admits, stroking his neck.

Hanssen resumes his movements, and opens the door

"Good. Tomorrow at 8am is the briefing. I expect to see you there."

Jonny opens his mouth in protest, but you shake your head and leave, earning a contented nod from Henrik. The nurse follows you out.

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**Hope it wasn't too boring and badly written. Just some basic background. Oh, and is the "you" format alright, or should I change it?**


	3. Consumption of News

**Hello and thank you for all the lovely reviews this fic is getting, really appreciate feed-back :) Here's chapter three.**

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You sit, relatively isolated from your colleagues, on the other side of the bar. Jonny was late per usual, even though he, unlike yourself, had no qualms about social occasions. Sacha grins at you with ease, his fruitless attempts at dancing the only thing that keeps you here. Finally, as you take the final swig of your drink, the door swings open, revealing you flustered lover, who literally sprints to your side.

"I'm really sorry," he gasps. You reply with a sarcastic comment almost instantly, and share small talk effortlessly after that – you even admit that you enjoy his company. You are immediately aware that your colleagues are watching, marveling at the ice-queen's attempt at a relationship. Unnerved, the change in atmosphere is instantaneously observed by Jonny, and, in sympathy, he suggests that you take this somewhere more "private." Agreeing, you stand together and make your way towards the exit – you consent reluctantly to your house instead of his. It was more practical, you suppose.

Your lips lock in a warzone of unacquainted passion. You curl your tingling fingers around the gentle locks that frame Jonny's head, pushing him nearer you. He responds at once, his pure fervor driving you roughly against he next convenient wall; his curious hands stroke your back and sides, before meeting the black belt around your waist and fiddling with the buckle. Your whole body is a beacon of wondrous ardor; you fiddle with Jonny's shirt, unbuttoning it – feeling his warm skin and fluttering heartbeat underneath. You lead him, without a thought, to the bedroom, and, in a tangle of arms and legs, you fall tenderly onto the bed.

Jonny exhales contently, his eyes locking onto the beautiful woman that rests so peacefully beside him. He had dreamt about her, them – their perfect little family. _One day._ Her breathing brought him contentment as her chest rose and fell in a steady pace. Jac was a different person when she was sleeping – so at peace. Jonny, without wanting to wake this wonderful woman he shared a bed with, slips out of the duvet silently and pads towards the bathroom, in the hope he could freshen up before work.

You stir and open your emerald eyes, barely conscious, although aware of the fact that you're not alone. You reach towards Jonny, needing comfort, to find that he's not there. Panicking, you realize he must have left like everyone else did. You sigh, knowing that you're unlovable.

"Jac?" His voice sends sparks through your mind. Racing to enter the en-suite, you exhale as Jonny takes in your naked frame, grinning. You almost laugh at the transfixed expression that inhabits his face, though stop yourself at the last moment.

He stayed. That's what's important.

**8am. **

Jonny smiles nonchalantly as he lingers at Hanssen's door for the briefing. He had managed to escape Mo and Elliot's incessant questioning about the cleanness of his shirt – they were certain he had worn it the day before - to be here.

_Which is untrue, of course, he hadn't needed clothes yesterday…_ You smirk at the thought, earning yourself a questioning eyebrow from Jonny. Before you can explain, the entrance to Henrik's office swings open and the man himself welcomes you in.

"Ms Naylor, Nurse Maconie, I see you have made it here on time after all…" Hanssen mutters, almost disappointed that you weren't late. You roll your eyes and prepare for the onslaught of impious comments and tedious information.

**9am**

The staff room is unnaturally quiet, aside the occasional ticking of the grand clock, as you relax on the couch, pondering your latest assignment. India. Your thoughts are temporarily redirected, and they form a crystal clear picture in your mind of the woman you hate. However, if you despise her so much, why did you agree to this? In two weeks time, you are expected to travel, with someone who, lets face it, you barely know, to a country which you abhor and blame for snatching your mother. If it was Joseph, or even Michael, they would understand. But it isn't. It's the man that you, while how many times you try to deny it, are falling for. It's completely unethical – he knows nothing about you. That's why you have to keep it a secret.

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**So, what do you think is going to happen next? What do you want to happen next? What are you ideas, theories? Review and tell me if you like ;)**


	4. The Mile High Club

**Here's the next chapter! Enjoy! Any suggestions do say! Sorry that it's short.**

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**2 WEEKS LATER: 8am**

Your poise is disrupted as the entrance to your home is violated with heavy knocks. Gradually, you trudge towards the source of the infuriating noise and throw open the door, revealing Jonny standing on the step, grasping two enormous suitcases. Staring at the amount of luggage your lover carries, you roll the small valise forward to demonstrate the difference. The nurse smiles and strides with you in the direction of the waiting taxi, and you both enter rather quickly. Jonny swiftly notifies the driver about your destination: Holby Airport.

The visor is down and you and Jonny welcome the privacy. He plants a kiss on your lips to your apparent surprise. It is soft and tender, unlike any other you had experienced before – it was usually fiery and passionate. He grins at your dazed expression and you sit in silence for the whole journey, marvelling in each other's company.

The airport is cramped, brimming with people. You feel insecure, agoraphobic. Here, emotions are never neutral. The check-in passes too slowly for your liking, and the antagonizing waiting infuriates you.

Finally, your gate is opened, and, after consuming a quick breakfast, you head aboard.

* * *

**10:30am**

Jonny is anxious, his palpitations and heavy breathing easily tells you that. He glances about he plane, terrified, almost trembling, his eyes darting from the freedom below to the inside of his dystopia. You raise an eyebrow in an unspoken question and he scans the warmth behind your pupils with obvious surprise.

"What?" He mutters inconvincibly. You stare at him, willing an answer to emanate. He looks down, unconsciously fiddling with the seatbelt that he views as the epicentre of safety. "It's something to do with snakes that may or may not have been on a plane…"

You can't withhold a grin this time, or even a minute snigger.

"Are you laughing at me?" Jonny asks. You continue to smile. "Shut up."

"It's about time you learnt to differentiate between reality and fictitious events Nurse Maconie," you say, leaning back into the soft furnishings that make up the 1st class area. Jonny glances at you flirtatiously.

"We could have an entirely _real_ experience right now… The national state of the NHS does need some discussion…" He replies, winking. You can't resist.

He takes your hand in his and leads you towards the airplane bathroom.

The glare you receive from the elderly passengers doesn't fail to annoy as both you and Jonny sneak out of the cubicle. He beams at the queue that had formed and the children who seemed visibly scarred from the noises. You keep your head down, mortified.

Why did you agree to this?


	5. Hotel Revelations

**Sorry that it's taken such a long time to get this uploaded, but enjoy and please review 3 x x**

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Adorned with sapphire irises along the papered walls, the reception is the epicentre of beauty. A translucent chandelier hangs attractively from the ceiling, each separate crystal refracting the natural light that flies through the windows. The marble staircase extends towards the roof with never-ending steps, although it seems the lift is the guest's primary choice.

You enter the hotel whilst lugging behind the suitcase you were too stubborn to let go of, even though Jonny had offered. He throws you a smug grin and you grimace, marvelling at your own obstinacy. A receptionist greets you with an unwavering and somewhat unnerving smile, hands you the keys before referring you to the porter; you remove your bags with relief. Obviously, you ponder to yourself, Hanssen has supplied you and your inferior with separate rooms, as your partnership is not common knowledge. You hope the disappointment isn't that apparent.

The lift groans open and the three of you step out, the quietness, in contrast with the outside world, dawning with unease. Your room is not easily found among the maze of corridors, but this gives you more time to contemplate the feeling of dread that consumes your thoughts. Jac Naylor doesn't do feelings! Jonny is blissfully ignorant of why you have succumbed to silence now, or why you haven't uttered a word since the incident on the plane. The exact situation you find yourself in has only just been realised.

Finally, you reach your destination and the porter leaves you alone. You are temporarily confused at why he has left the both of you staring at one single door, and, upon opening, realise that Hanssen must have known about your relationship after all – a king-sized double flaunts its scarlet duvets and feathery pillows. Thrown over the sheets were some rose petals and you squirm with embarrassment. Contrastingly, Jonny takes one glance at you and launches himself onto the bed happily. Rolling your eyes, you turn to investigate the rest of the room, when an arm snakes around yours and pulls you gently onto the culprit. You lay on top of him, momentarily lost in the moment, before shaking your head and removing yourself from his desirable frame.

"Ohh," he wines, "I was hoping for a repeat of last nights fireworks."

Suddenly, he infuriates you.

"Do you really think that I want a repeat of that sweaty clinch in a cramped compartment with a skinny, Scottish nurse?" You spit out, frenzied by an all consuming anger, unearthing the unwanted feelings inside. Jonny leans forward.

"Jeez Jac, I was only joking, lighten up will you?" He mutters.

"Lighten up?! And I thought the Neanderthals were extinct!" You yell irritably. Jonny pushes himself up.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" He inches closer.

"Oh, are you deaf as well as blind?" You answer, looking him over with disgust. Jonny stares at you.

"And what is that supposed to mean?" You raise an eyebrow incredulously.

"Do you want me to paint you a picture?" Jonny pauses for a moment, and clenches his fists, seething.

"I don't know what's going on with you today! First you're up for a bit of carnal delight, but then you go and blow a gasket… It's like you're having one giant mood swi…" He trails off as he sees the look that graces your beautiful features. His eyes widen in realisation as you run out of the room and slam the door.


	6. Trouble in Paradise

**I must warn the readers that this fic will get darker from now on and that I may have to put the rating up. Anyway, please enjoy and review :) x**

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Furious and in no control of your emotions, you storm towards the lobby, those who meet you in the corridor disapproving of the spectacle you are making. Eyes staring down the other guests with whips of anger, you're relatively unaware that Jonny is pursuing hurriedly behind. You barge through crowds of people, who glare and mutter irritably, and arrive in front of the lift. Impatient, you ram your hand onto the ground floor button and stare at the coloured lights as they slowly descend. Deciding that the elevator is taking too long, you turn around, straight into the path of the pleading nurse. He throws you a puppy dog look.

"Jac. I am very sorry," he begs wistfully. You return his pleas with a classic frown.

"You think that one word from you and I'm just going to jump into bed? If you pull anything like that again, I will make Hitler look like a Saint. Capisce?" You glance at him, his expression is unreadable.

"But…" He decides that he doesn't value his ability to have children.

"Just leave it!" Your voice is raised as the lift doors slide open; you internally revel at the distraction. Heading towards the open escape route, you look fleetingly behind. "I'm really not in the mood today!" Jonny follows you into the cramped, metal box, and, as the entrance slithers shut, he resumes begging for forgiveness.

* * *

_The plain, repetitive outside of Heysham Hospital emanates loss. __You inhale what you hope is clean air and, accompanied by Jonny, stride inside. The consultant who will be assisting greets you and you are given a tour of the place. _

_Eventually, you are led onto the ward that you would be spending most of your time, and are shown the patient you would be treating. June Lill acknowledges you with a tilt of her head, but then studies you more carefully when something flickers in the back of her mind._

* * *

"रुको_!" The patient yells frantically, placing her hand in the air to indicate stopping. "_क्या आप एक पता _Paula Burrows?" _

_You don't need the language to be deciphered this time, for you know exactly what she means. _

_You have been caught._

* * *

Turning around, you retrace your footsteps back to the bed. Your brow furrows in confusion, your ears not ready to believe the words that were uttered moments before.

"I'm sorry?" You ask defensively. Jonny shares a look with the translator, both riddled with misunderstanding. The patient beckons you nearer with a slow wave of her hand and you comply almost immediately. June's glance falls upon the men uneasily, and then switches back to you, observing the familiarities you have with your mother, unfortunately.

"You," She began with broken English. "Help." Jonny exhaled as the tension dispersed.

"Ms Jill, Ms Naylor is the best in the business, so I wouldn't worry ab…" He was soon cut off with protests from the older woman.

"No! Help… Jasmine!" You recoil away from the patient, overwhelmed with a sense of rising panic. "Your si…"

"Enough!" Ice Queen masquerade firmly reattached, with impassiveness, you turn away – leaving the past in the past.

"Danger! Danger!" The patient yelled frantically, desperately trying to get you to understand, to no avail. Driven by all the surfacing hatred, you resume walking, the others following, aware of the porter directing a relative towards the shouting woman.

With indifference, he instigates an argument. His emerald eyes, as verdant as the nearby pastures, flash with resentment. The brown locks that form his hair cascade over his forehead and are wiped quickly away. June shrinks back into her bed, almost cowering, as her doctors leave her to face the consequences.

**Hope it isn't too bad :/ I actually found writing Jac quite tricky today so I''m sorry if she's out of character. **


	7. Sean Connery Antics

**I must start with saying that I am so sorry that it has taken such a long time to write and upload, I have had such a lot of work to do and not a lot of time to do it. Sorry again and enjoy :) Oh and I am trying to finish this fic before Christmas, as, after, I will be taking a break from fanfiction. You may still get one-shots, but no more multi-fics, I really am sorry. I wish I had time. **

**WARNING: THIS FIC WILL HAVE VERY DARK THEMES FROM NOW ON.**

* * *

As soon as you're alone, you have the unwelcomed privilege of the torrent of questions playing on the nurse's mind. Jonny looks closely at you, unsure of the level of tension.

"What was that?" He asks tactlessly, willing for you to respond. You instigate full defense mode as the layers of your icy shield build up again.

"I'm sorry, you must think I have developed an ability to read minds," you answer sarcastically, verbal abuse strong and defiant. Jonny refuses to yield.

"That wee chat with the patient, what was that all about? Do you know her?" You sneak a look upwards at Jonny's caring expression, before ultimately staring back down at the ground.

"No. I've never seen her before in my life." Jonny exhales, naively believing you.

"So you don't know who this… "Jasmine" is?" You quickly decide lying is the best option, even though the probable consequences later on.

"No, Jonny, she's obviously bonkers conkers, or mildly schizophrenic. I have no idea what she was muttering on about." You stare at him insolently now, the air immediately electric with the guarantee of metaphorical bloodshed. Jonny raises an eyebrow.

"And you're sure about that?" Your eyes widen angrily.

"Yes!" Jonny senses the danger already; the atmosphere had shifted almost immediately. Before a terrifying argument can commence, a nurse interrupts, waving a handful of files in the air. Your eyes never leave one another's as Jonny grabs the envelope from his new colleague and tears the paper open. He studies it for one quick moment, leaving you bemused at his attempt of looking intelligent.

"Mine, I presume?" You mutter, bored. Even without a response, you snatch the results from Jonny's hands anyway and examine them.

"Damn it! Her white blood cells are through the roof!" Jonny looks at you carefully.

"Do you want to go and break it to her?"

_"That sounds surprisingly reasonable… time to up your medication."_

* * *

To move brings pain, but to remember does as well.

Her once beautiful complexion is speckled with azure leopard prints enlarging towards the curvature of her neck and blood trickles down the crevice of her lip onto the white gown she bears. She hears the patter of feet, the volume increases substantially and she realizes that they are coming her way. The secret must be kept hidden, she decides, as she waits for the incoming trio.

Jonny glares daggers at the translator whom is currently attempting to flirt with your not so impressed form. You're secretly delighted that he takes such an interest, and you enjoy the sadism of smiling, however falsely, back. The nurse squirms uncomfortably and leads the others into the ward.

Your smile fades as you see what awaits you.

"Jesus! Ms Lill, can you hear me?"

Jonny is immediately at your patient's side and places a comforting arm around her shoulders, which she promptly shrugs off, obviously. June's expression wildly contorts, and she mutters something in her native language. The translator nodded, understanding.

"She says, 'Despite my age, I'm not deaf you know.'" You raise an eyebrow, amused. Jonny is swiftly defensive.

"Oh right, sorry, can you tell us what happened?" June crosses her arms immovably.

"Well I didn't get any better did I?" You move forward, the doctor you are, and try to return the situation to the matter in hand.

"Ms Lill, your white blood cell count is very high, which is a roundabout way of saying that you have an infection. You have to understand that we may have to delay your op if we can't find the cause soon so…"

"…Any information that you give us will be very helpful," Jonny interrupts thoughtlessly. While that particular piece of information was being translated, you throw him a contemptuous look of disdain.

"Yes, thank you Nurse Maconie," you input indifferently.

"मैं कुछ भी पता नहीं है," your patient murmurs bitterly. The translator turns towards you.

"She doesn't know anything." You scoff exasperatedly, your dreams of escaping from this dystopia well and truly shattered.

"Well that's not exactly news is it?!" The translator twists to repeat your words, and, before he can open his mouth, you say irritably, "Don't translate that!" He waggles his head at you and excuses himself shortly after.

Noticing that his competition had departed, Jonny inches temptingly nearer so that your bodies are tantalizingly close.

"Don't you think you and I should have a little chat?" He asks quietly, even though you were quite safe speaking in native tongue. You pointedly ignore his question, and place the translated notes back into your patient's folder.

"I need a urine sample and an echo." You proceed to walk out of the room.

"Jac?" He murmurs, a last-ditch attempt. You do not even turn around to answer.

"Now!" Usually stoic, he seethes silently, bubbling anger ready to surface.

"Or perhaps not."

* * *

This place infuriates you. Not only does June Lill have a rare heart condition, but she also has an AB negative blood type. And, of course, the consultant is too busy tending to his new born than to order a larger supply. You deem them all _cretins_ almost immediately, having had enough. Sighing, the little willpower you have left struggles to remain absolute and you find yourself expressing a small moment of weakness to the celery stick that is rooted firmly in your hand.

"You look like you're in dire need of a drink." Jonny suggests, under the impression that alcohol can solve all of your problems, as usual. You look at him exasperatedly for having stated the _bleeding obvious._

"Oh, where did you earn your stripes Colombo?" You answer instantaneously, venom in you perfectly formed words. Jonny grins, unaffected by the spoken cruelty.

"Lighten up Jac, it will be good for your blood pressure," he responds teasingly. He wins a rare smile from you – a fleeting reveal of emotion, although a genuine one nonetheless.

"Touché," you murmur, unnerved by his expectant stare.

"So?"

"So what?" You snap without thinking, though the nurse doesn't seem to notice.

"Is it a done deal? Will you accompany me to a fine dining establishment?" You pause, letting the proposition dawn upon you.

"Now that's pushing it." Jonny narrows his eyes, not convinced, and analyses your hopefully impassive expression.

"I'll take that as a yes, and I promise: no more Sean Connery antics."

You glance up at him, and in that one moment you consider spilling all. All of the skeletons in the closet, all of your dirty laundry, all of you deepest darkest secrets, and in that one moment you choose not too, for you are Jac Naylor, the ominous ice queen, the woman who has an incapability to love, to trust.

_"Good. Because I do have a license to kill."_

* * *

The hem of your scarlet dress flows elegantly across the polished floor, and your pristine _Connie Beauchamp_ shoes clink their way towards the delegated table. Jonny models a _James Bond_ tuxedo, adorned with a pinned flower and silver cufflinks – the epicentre of irony. The candles illuminate your features with sparkling intensity, reflecting the innocence that many do no see in you. Menus opened, the vast number of food turns your surprise recognizable. Apprehensive, you are reluctant to initiate conversation, and you hope he does soon.

Suddenly, your eyes are drawn into an argument. The trio adjacent confront one another, but you are particular interested, for some unknown reason, to the red-headed girl apparently cowering in between the two men. You glance around. Nobody seems to be doing anything – even the owner of the restaurant is standing transfixed.

To everyone's apparent relief, the dispute dies down and they shake hands, before the younger of the duo takes the youthful girl by the shoulder and leads her away, a dark smile spread onto his face. Your brow furrows, trying to place her, you know you have seen her somewhere before, although it was difficult having seen only the side of her head.

But now you realize. And it is too late.


	8. She's not in the outer hebrides, Joe

**Here's chapter 8 - hope you enjoy :) Please read and review :D **

**Who else is excited for the Christmas ep? "Jac realises that Jonny is what she wants for Christmas," and "Jac and Jonny share a special moment." OMFG - I am fangirling so much right now! And, the foreign ep looks so good too! Anyways, sort of fluffy Janny in this chap - sort of...**

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The afternoon sun drizzles through the bleak windows and sprinkles leopard prints over the soiled floor. The buzz of life is the only noise available to hearing, creating a moment almost magical. It is as quiet as any hospital could be; the ward isn't entirely busy. You have seized the staff room for your own purposes – brewing a life-saving cup of coffee. Your patient's notes hang off the end of the table and you uninterestedly snatch them up, whilst your drink is being made, and open them, seeing as there isn't anything else to do. Jonny sits beside you, annoying close; sulking after you stole the last mug of coffee.

Your eyes widen as you read the opening diagnosis.

"Gonnorhoea?!" You exclaim, bemused. Jonny breaks into a smile.

"Wasn't from me, honest." You throw him a classic "not impressed" look and express a grimace.

"Vile." He returns your characteristic glance with a typical grin. The noise of the coffee machine distracts you and you go to reach for it.

"What, you're telling me that when you reach the grand old age of 50, sex is not on the menu?" Jonny stands up quickly and snatches the cup from your hands, smirking triumphantly. "See, I thought it would be quite up the list." He leaves a rather large trail of saliva across the rim, having slithered his tongue across it. You scowl petulantly at his immaturity.

"Ugh, how old are you?" This spurs him on further.

"Six, seven, but I've been told I underestimate." You roll your eyes and slump back onto your chair, Jonny following swiftly behind.

"Ha, don't quit the day job Maconie." The nurse smiles charmingly.

"Didn't plan to, Naylor," he replies, producing a pen from his left pocket after observing that you were in dire need of one. You snatch it from his grasp and scribble a small tick down on the crowded piece of paper.

"Ugh, this is brilliant - we're going to have to delay her op now, and that's exactly what we need!" You mutter, acknowledging the arrival of a resident doctor. Jonny ignores the man who has just entered the room and continues.

"I would have thought someone her age would have been a wee bit more… wiser… in that department…"

"Well in her profession I'm not surprised," The Indian doctor interrupts in broken English. Jonny's brow furrows.

"What d'ya mean?" The man squirts water onto the evident vomit, from his newborn child, situated on his shoulder, and wipes it clean.

"Very good escort," he says, "Very, very good escort," as if he is speaking to himself. You share an amused look with Jonny. Noticing, the doctor quickly recovers. "That's what I've heard anyway…" He steps hurriedly out of the room. Your face contorts with a rare smile.

"Ah so that's why Hanssen was so keen to silence her," you utter, entertained. Jonny raises an eyebrow, confused.

"I'm sorry?" You turn back towards you files, attempting not to roll your eyes, and not succeeding.

"Never mind."

As silence dawns, you marvel in each other's company, and, as the cries of the ward ring out, realise that this hospital is just like any other – devoid of peace.

* * *

The lift seems absolute to remain slow, and, even though you recognize that it won't help, you persist to bang the ground floor button one million times. You glance towards the wristwatch taking prime residence on your pale arm – 8:30pm. Jonny had offered to take you to dinner once again and you had reluctantly agreed - what had happened last time still ringing, unconditional, inside your mind.

A man slithers towards you, snake-like in gait, and, at first, you think nothing of it. He nods at you and you return the gesture without contemplating. Afterwards, you turn back to look – he is of average build and his dull brown eyes glare furiously forward at some unknown entity; the atmosphere becomes electric with a somewhat threatening air. For you have seen him before, you have witnessed him instigate an argument between himself and your patient. Your eyes widen and you absentmindedly fiddle with the string of your scrubs.

"You look a lot like each other," he mutters broodingly. You whip around and raise a questioning eyebrow.

"Excuse me?" He glances fleetingly at you, before his gaze resumes staring at the wall in front.

"You and your sister." These words send shock waves through your system. You regain composure and gape, astonished, at the person adjacent.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" His rage explodes. He presses you against the wall, one hand above the crimson rolls of your hair and the other by the curve of your hip. You cower internally, but you refuse to show fear.

"It doesn't matter who I am, just remember that I know you," he pauses for effect. "But there's no need to worry that pretty little head of yours, as long as you take my advice and leave ASAP, I can guarantee that no one will get hurt." Your eyes slide upon him rebelliously.

"What if I don't need your advice?" You mutter, disgusted. His breath id fresh on your neck and the stench of alcohol swarms around the duo.

"Then I will have to pay a pathologist to falsify a post mortem, and I'm hard up as it is. Understand?" He scowls, not used to such a disobedient woman. You look down in quiet thought. Thrusting closer, your bodies inches apart, he lifts your chin towards him.

"I said, do you understand?"

"Yes," you reply loudly, whipping your head away from him. He backs down and straightens up.

"Well done. You're smarter than I give you credit for," he looks you up and down, "Goodbye Jacqueline Naylor, I hope I wont see you too soon." He grins, satisfied.

He raises his hand above your head and it plunges through the air…


	9. Guillotines and Disasters

**God, I can't apologise enough for the delay and the crappyness of this chapter. So, to make it up to you guys, I have written another fic that should also be up today and I have made that as cute as possible! Enjoy :)**

* * *

… and punches the lift panel inches away from your skull. He skulks away, and smiles as the elevator doors slide shut with an eerie finality. You are momentarily stunned, dazed even, and transfixed to the floor. You do not yet notice Jonny, who, seconds later, is glancing at you with concern.

Suddenly, the lift doors swing open and half a dozen surgeons and nurses emerge, sliding a bloodied bed through the floor. The girl who rides the pathway to hell screams bitterly, the haunting noise echoing over your subconscious.

"MOVE NOW!" Jonny slides to one side, pulling you gently with him.

The world seems to be moving in a calculated montage of sound and colour. Your eyes fix onto the red-headed girl. Her clothes are a torn web of fabric, her hair is matted, hanging down her almost unrecognisable features, and her body is a beacon of horrible distress.

"Jeez, what side of bed did he get up on this morning?" His words almost do not reach your ears. The older, Indian man flashes the nurse an unexpected glare.

"We have a RTA here and we're short staffed. It's definitely Christmas." You move to the foot of the bed in a mystified trance.

"Name?" You ask, needing the confirmation.

"It's in her notes."

You make a show of flicking through them, the minutes ticking by. Jonny steps in, holding your arm softly.

"Jac? We really should get going if we want to catch the…" Your head catapults towards him, eyes blaring with uncontrolled emotion.

"They need us here Jonny, there's no I in team right?" The bed is wheeled away and you follow instinctively.

Jonny is left with the odd turn of events, wavering in the corridor awkwardly.

"Right," he murmurs confusedly.

* * *

The phone smashes down, your anger propelling it roughly into its casing. Your eyes burn with a fiery fury.

"Cretins! It's like working in a bloody war zone in here and everyone is too busy rocking around the Christmas tree to come and clean up!" You run your fingers through your hair exasperatedly.

"That not speaking your mind thing is going really well isn't it?" Jonny answers back, a safe distance away.

You turn around, paper-work everywhere amongst a pile of tiny, pink clothes that promptly end up on the floor. You stoop to return them to their place.

"What the hell are these?!" A registrar glances sheepishly at you, carefully removing his processions from your grasp.

"Sorry. Baby clothes," there's a pause while the man toys with his words, "My wife's expecting."

You showcase no sympathy whatsoever.

"Well I'm expecting this to be sorted out by the end of the day or I may have to order a guillotine. Capeesh?" Storming off is a habit nowadays for you; the shared office had the privacy you so desire.

The registrar leans in towards Jonny. "What's up with her?"

The nurse sighs, leaning up against the desk, his will almost shattered.

"I really don't know."


	10. Death Shall Have No Dominion

**Sorry for the delay my lovely readers, and thank you for the reviews so far :) xx**

* * *

The atmosphere is tense, fearful even. An assorted number of doctors and nurses pelt towards different sides of the room in a war-like frenzy. The curtain had been ruthlessly hurled closed around the injured girl, although even this veil could not guarantee privacy. In a frenzy of arms and legs, the medical professionals quickly asses her and decide on the best course of action.

There are shouts in the language unknown to you. With a dry mouth, in a voice so unlike your own, you badger them incessantly, needing answers, to no avail. You draw your elbows to your sides. The rush of the ward feels like wailing shells in your ears; someone had put the world around you in double speed.

"What's going on?!" You yell into the crowd, eyes wide and staring. Nothing. No one is bothered to answer. "Will someone tell me what the hell's going on?" With no concept of personal space, you back a puny, foundation year into the corner; your fists clench and your eyes flash with a single message: do not mess with me.

His face pale, and his palms sweaty, he takes an obstinate interest in the wall opposite. "Miscarriage?" He whimpers slowly.

And with that, the world uncoils, shooting back to customary speed.

* * *

Jonny slips his leather jacket onto his shoulders and resumes his previous position at the nurses' station; he holds his arms staunch and professional, waiting for news. A brisk ringing interrupts his few precious moments of silence; he grasps the culprit hurriedly and checks the caller ID... Henrik Hanssen, probably wondering why there's been a delay with the op. Deciding that he certainly doesn't want to have a conversation about Gonorrhoea down the phone to his eminent and intimidating boss, Jonny, after a few rings, rejects the call.

"You, doctor, here?" A sudden voice brings him back into the real world. The nurse glances up, ready to correct the person stood in front of him, before he takes in the pure size of the man. Luckily, Jonny doesn't have a chance to lie, for the man advances nearer and, with desperation, says, "Jasmine? The baby alright?"

"Sorry, mate, I can't tell you that - patient confidentiality." Jonny replies, busying himself by sorting files.

"Please," the man begs, "I'm her father." Jonny sighs, his eyes in an extended gaze, and fiddles with the knot in his hair.

"It's not looking good," he finally admits. With no further questions or indicators of concern but a small nod to himself, the man departs, leaving Jonny to it. The nurse tilts his head to the side, and presses his lips together, deliberating. He had seen that man before.

The restaurant. He was there with them in the restaurant.

* * *

Fishing his mobile out of his pocket, the man punches the right number in, tapping his fingers lightly against the outer-casing. The call eventually connects; he waits for a second, though there was no time to exchange pleasantries.

"आप से निपटने के करीब है - बच्चा मर चुका है," he mutters bitterly. "_You have to close the deal - the baby's dead." _

There is a slight intake of breath on the other side of the line._  
_


	11. Run

***Sheepishly looks towards readers and then down***

**I am so so so so so sorry I haven't updated this sooner! I feel so guilty. People have probably lost interest in this story, but if there are any readers still out there, thank you for keeping with it! **

* * *

She has crawled up in a position that could only be described as foetal-like in stance, clutching at the lining of her hospital bed with hunched fingers. Her emotions are distressed, raw, poignant - those you would expect of a person of barely woman status - which is why, though comfort was rarely something she accepted, the teenage girl lets her elder rub her on the back soothingly.

She has no voice to cry out. However, even if she did, who, or what, would she cry out for? Her mother who would never have the dignity to turn up? Her sister who is denying every family connected they still share? Or her dead baby, a life that would never be able to flourish? No, that is why the sob now catches in her throat; she forces it back down, there isn't any point anymore.

You solemnly enter the room and place yourself at the foot of _her_ bed, latching onto her file to have something to distract yourself with. You can't bare to look - all you see is guilt, all you think is you could have done something to stop _this_, whatever _this_ is, from happening.

June had taken up your role; she wipes away the tears, and, with them, she wipes away only the physical reminiscent of what had been lost. Your _niece_. Or your _nephew_. It's strange how a small part of your family that you never knew you had could take so much out of you. With a look, June turns to you and closes her eyes to memories.

"I had dead..." She struggles to find the word so mimes a cradle of arms. "I know pain," she glances towards Jasmine sombrely before resuming, "I swore I heard the crying, but they took her away. She was dead, they told me. Dead."

* * *

**A few hours later...**

He drags her up from her defeated slump on the hospital bed, her red hair thrown roughly across her face - a dim-witted protective barrier. His fingers press into her arm with such force as to create bruises. It is her fault, he decides. She won't comply, I have to take action.

He had seen her first at the restaurant. She was young and beautiful, exactly what their company needed. He didn't count on how reckless she is, and, now she has lost the baby, all their effort has been wasted, their costumers would be disappointed, and money would have to be returned. Stupid, pathetic, little girl. And her sister, he gauges, is no different. Her sister had been there, at the restaurant - he hadn't realised at the time. She was a threat. Her and her nursey.

He yanks Jasmine's arm around his shoulders and compels her to move with a few slaps to the head. He can feel eyes on him, snooping, dangerous eyes of the patient that shares their secret.

And then the atmosphere changes as you slip into the room. You cotton on pretty quickly, but are unable to stop the duo from escaping into the corridor. You have no authority to stop them. She had been discharged. This isn't your problem.

"Poor, poor child," June mutters gravely. "He no good. No good..."

Ignoring the quiet sobs of your registrar erupting from the adjacent corridor, your eyes travel down the hospital bed your sister had left, memorising every crease, every crevice, and every... phone?

The devise is planted beneath the cover, blinking towards the light. You reach over and grab it, not knowing why.

It has no pass code, nor personalisation, it has nothing but one simple message written on her notes.

**RUN. They are coming.**


End file.
